Misconduct
by 1Past and Present1
Summary: Hermione likes cats. She finds herself unable to resist McGonagall, and her professor's reaction is surprising.


**Misconduct**

My first attempt at writing for Harry Potter. I'm not very confident, but as long as it entertains you, I shall be happy. Apologies for any unintentionally OOC behaviour. I'm… new? But I'll learn with practice.

Please enjoy.

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"Professor? So sorry to be a bother, but I was just hoping I could hand in my Transfiguration-"

The sight of a familiar silver striped tabby cat seated on the wooden desk at the far end of the classroom makes me pause in the doorway, mouth open.

We stare at each other.

"Oh," I manage once the initial moments of surprise have passed, leading onwards to a period of disquiet I spend hanging back, suddenly unsure of myself. It's not very eloquent or brave, but I get the funny notion I've interrupted something private.

As if to ease the tension, the attractive, healthy cat blinks back calmly, silently waiting for me to explain my being there. Such an intimidating presence the feline brings to the classroom, yet it is dispelled a little with a casual flick of a long, striped tail, and a visible softening of spectacled brows. The tabby's face becomes somewhat friendlier, less imposing, easing with recognition.

I cough politely, regaining some of my sense. Enough to close my mouth, at least. "Well, this certainly is a surprise." I'm so surprised, in fact, that I realise quite suddenly that I had, for a second there, forgotten all about my beautiful paperwork; safely cradled in my arms, though embraced a little less tightly to my chest than usual as I shyly absorb the cat's intense, albeit kindly scrutiny of me. "I'm sorry, shall I return later? I don't mean to interrupt if you're busy or… something…"

Continuing to study me intently, ears pricked forward and whiskers shimmering in the light streaming in from an arched window past hanging cages and cluttered bookshelves, a warm beam alighting the feline's face, the tabby almost seems to smile before showing teeth within a daintily open maw. A regal meow invites me into the classroom, telling me to relax, that I'm not about to receive a detention for this interruption.

Soothed, I let my guard down and begin to make my way to the desk, and in turn, the silver tabby cat. "Good day," I greet said cat, unable to withhold the amusement from my voice when those green eyes lower to the papers in my arms for a moment, then rise again to expectantly meet with mine once more. I stop respectfully before the desk and bow my head once to my mentor. "Professor."

She meows a second time, a little more warmly than before, inclining her head in turn. McGonagall had spoken to me of her Animagus talents previously, yet seeing her as a cat – and a gorgeous cat at that – still seems very strange, even if it shouldn't be so, really. I've seen her like this before, after all. It just never gets old.

"I finished my essay early." I smile lopsidedly down at the little tabby, who I swear is smirking back. "I was hoping, Professor, that perhaps I could hand these in ahead of time in case something… well, adventurous happens. May I…?"

She nods at an empty space on her desk and I lay the modest stack of paperwork down, carefully straightening the pile of parchment. She watches me all the while, her attention disconcerting yet comforting and even flattering, all at once.

"Thank you," I say in my most polite tone, satisfied. I send my transformed mentor a quick glance and then shoot a cautious look at the door, finding no prying eyes outside the classroom, lurking in the passage. Finally I take a relieved breath; alone. I always prefer having my favourite professor to myself, as selfish and silly as that may be. I look back to her with the hope of lengthening this time we have together, one on one, no clamour to interrupt us. "I hope you're well, Professor?"

She meows quietly, turning one ear away and wrinkling her muzzle slightly, producing an entertaining facial expression. As if she'd smelt something bad.

"Oh, dear. That doesn't sound good at all," I reply cordially, pretending to understand her. In a weird way, I do. Slytherin troubles, I strongly suspect. And my suspicions are often enough proven correct. That certainly looks like a Slytherin face to me.

She abandons her distasteful expression and appears pleasantly at ease again, her whiskers gently shifting as she briefly brushes a tongue over her little pink nose and readjusts her paws, all with such charming nonchalance only a cat could ever manage. And she's a special cat, no ordinary cat, so the effect – especially with those almost comically characteristic spectacle markings ringing around her large, brilliantly green eyes – is multiplied greatly.

Caught in the adorableness of the whole thing, I discard all boundaries between professor and student in favour of embracing a moment of recklessness, leaning over to very softly brush a finger down the length of her handsome snout, stopping at aforementioned little pink nose, cold and wet to my touch.

A sharper meow reminds me of my breach of professionalism and I retract my hand as if I'd been bitten, revealing a somewhat unimpressed kitty with a definite frown, her tail flicking at the tip in a testy fashion.

"Sorry," I mumble through my hands, currently cupping my burning face, likely red with embarrassment. "Errm." How very eloquent I am today, indeed. "Am I in trouble, Professor?" It seems I have but a fraction of my characteristic Gryffindor courage left in me.

She sighs, her tail ending its activity and settling calmly around her legs. She shakes her head patiently. She's forgiven me, it appears.

I let my shoulders drop. They'd hunched in my state of near panic. "Thank goodness."

She scoffs and I nervously allow my hands to fall, playing with my robes.

"I am so terribly sorry for… petting you. Without your consent. That was rude of me, Professor."

"Meow."

I can't stop a giggle at that. "But," I begin anew, courage somewhat restored, "it is rather your own doing, you know."

My mentor raises a brow. "Meow?"

"Indeed. If you didn't allow yourself to appear so enticing, your vulnerable kittens – um, students – wouldn't feel so sorely tempted to touch you. You're a very pretty kitty, with all due respect. Professor. I don't blame the poor first years."

She appraises me with her eyes, visibly impressed and amused by my bold banter. Benevolently she rises from her rump and then turns, making her way over to my essay. She sits herself carefully beside the stack, laying a paw on the first page.

"I hope you like it. I… well, of course, wrote it with you in mind…"

She twitches her whiskers and with a last wink in my direction, looks downwards and begins to read.

I watch her eyes move about the text with alarming speed and much to my enjoyment, she utters a low purr of approval before pushing the page aside and moving to the next. Although this might have been a dismissal, I decide to stay, taking a seat in a chair in the front row, watching the Animagus' every move.

Sometime later she abruptly stops, raising her feline head to coolly eye me from across the desk.

"Is-" I swallow back the nervous lump in my throat. Steel myself to sound less like a mouse in her presence. "I hope all is to your liking, Professor. If it isn't I'd be more than happy to rewrite it."

She rises, nudging the pages neatly together, tail swishing.

I bite my lip.

Silently she saunters to the edge of the desk, tail raised and shivering. "Meow," she tells me, calling me to her, and I quickly get to my feet, forgetting to push in my chair as I clumsily make my way over to her, withholding choice words when I accidentally bump into the corner of a student's desk on my way out.

I stop before my mentor. Panting, still in one piece, looking a right fool. Sweep strands of my hair aside and clear my throat to regain some semblance of my dignity. "Professor?"

She extends a clever paw.

I offer her my hand. It just feels natural to do so.

She gently lays her silver mitt on my outstretched palm, keeping it there.

I allow myself a tiny grin. "You liked it?"

She blinks, offering me a cat smile in return. Yes.

I'm so trilled I forget myself again and hug the tabby cat, lifting her off of the desk and pressing my face in the silky fur of my mentor. She's so warm and fuzzy and cute. Cute. Cute. So cute. I love cats.

She tolerates my hug, I think, because I'm gentle, and maybe because she really does like me, and maybe because she secretly enjoys the attention. But a firm meow later and I carefully let her down again, smoothing her fur with a few chaste strokes before letting her be.

"Sorry, Professor. I'll, um… I'll just leave you to your meditation, then."

She leans closer, sniffing my robes and unruly hair, tresses of it tumbling down my bowed shoulders. She can smell Crookshanks on me, I'm sure. She knows I'm fond of cats. It's a trait we share.

I flinch helplessly when she hooks a claw in my robes and pulls me downwards.

I'd expected scolding. Perhaps to be turned into a teacup. Much to my astonishment, however, she brushes a sandpapery tongue over the skin of my cheek, then releases me and takes a respectful step back, gracefully sitting herself in the sunlight pooling on her desk.

"I'll see you later. Th-thank you, Professor." I hide my blush behind a strategically placed hand and turn on my heels, skipping. "Bye, Professor!" Hardly an appropriate means of addressing a teacher, but I must be forgiven. I'm feeling a little giddy in the head all of a sudden.

She meows once, saying goodbye. It's a cheery meow, I note. I don't think she minded my misconduct that much at all.

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Thanks so much for reading. Bless you.


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